Oz

"Oz."

That's the name on the street

for the Oswald Maximum Security Penitentiary.

Oz is retro. Oz is retribution.

You wanna punish a man?

Separate him from his family.

Separate him from himself.

Cage him up with his own kind.

- -

Down, down, get down!

No, no!

- Oz is hard times doing hard time.

- McManus, don't you ever knock?

- I've been through the files

of all the inmates who arrived today.

I want Tobias Beecher... - Okay.

Miguel Alvarez.

- Well, that'll be tough. He's in the hospital,

stab wound to the chest.

He gonna live?

Apparently.

- Fuck you, Healy. - All right.

- Shut the fuck up, asshole, before I come in there...

Hey, Warden.

Hello, Mike.

And I want Donald Groves.

- Groves? - Yeah.

- Let me ask you something,

McManus, and don't take this the wrong way, but--

- What? - Are you out of

your fucking mind?

Groves is a demented sociopath

without a skoosh of remorse.

Well, maybe.

He ate his parents.

He killed 'em, carved 'em up, and he ate them.

What the fuck do you think you can do with him?

- I'm gonna teach him table manners.

- Listen, the only thing a guy like that understands

is punishment, hard and swift.

Mm-hmm.

- Hey, Warden, come here and lick me!

Have a fucking nice day, you piece of shit.

- Leo, you said it yourself,

our first conversation:

all we do is recycle!

- Hey, Warden, I need to talk to you.

- Later, Johnson, later. - Yeah, later.

- I mean, an inmate comes in, we sit on him,

send him back out, he's back with a vengeance.

And if we don't do something different...

- Come back here, Warden, aah! - We don't do something radical

right now, we're never gonna break the chain.

- Listen, Groves isn't going out.

He's here till God drop-kicks him to hell.

- Do I have to call the commissioner on this one?

- - I was given total autonomy

to run Cell Block Five my way.

- Fine. Take Groves.

Thank you.

And Paul Markstram.

- Markstram? He's a petty drug dealer,

and I got enough petty drug dealers.

- You want Groves, you take Markstram.

- Why...? - Warden,

I need to talk to you, man. - Why?

- Just give me five minutes. -

He's my cousin.

Timmy McManus...

he created an experimental unit

inside Oz,

a new approach to the prison problem.

Some people call it "Emerald City."

To me, it's a concentration camp.

- In Emerald City, we got rules.

We got a lot more rules than anywhere else in Oz.

Your cell is your home.

Keep it clean, spotless.

You are to exercise regularly,

attend classes,

go to drug and alcohol counseling.

You are to work in one of the prison factories.

You are to follow the routine.

We tell you when to sleep,

when to eat,

when to piss.

There is no yelling,

no fighting, no fucking.

You follow the rules,

learn self-discipline.

'cause if you'd had any self-discipline,

any control over yourself at all,

you wouldn't be sitting here now.

Questions?

- Yeah. Can I go to the bathroom?

Suck it in, tough guy.

Okay, these are your sponsors.

They will help you get used to the routine.

- I don't want any fucking sponsors.

I don't want any fucking routine.

Shut up, Groves.

Hi, I'm Bob Rebadow.

Nice to meet you, too.

- Paul Markstram, Jefferson Keane.

Yo.

- Tobias Beecher, Dino Ortolani.

- Do I really have to do this ?

- Cut the shit, it's your turn.

Hello.

Beecher, huh?

I'm guessin' you ain't Italian.

What are you in for?

Shaving strokes off your golf score?

Prisoner number 9-7-B-4-1-2,

Tobias Beecher.

Convicted July 5th, '97, driving while intoxicated.

Vehicular manslaughter.

Sentenced to 15 years, up for parole in four.

In Oz,

the guards lock the cages and walk away.

Then the predators rise,

take control, make the rules.

But in Em City,

the guards are with us 24 hours a day.

There's no privacy.

Everybody sees what everybody's doing.

Eyes are everywhere...

McManus's eyes.

You see, in Em City, retribution gives way

to redemption.

Timmy Boy believes he can save every one of us,

from each other, from ourselves,

from the system that dumped us in here.

Only thing he don't get is,

you gotta wanna be saved.

- Hey, Dino, how you doin'?

Hey, look, pal,

I know I'm supposed to be some kind of bro.

The headline reads:

"I don't give a shit about you."

That's fine, Dino, okay.

Hey.

Let me give you a slice of advice.

- Mm-hmm. - Get yourself a weapon.

Anyone tries to fuck with you,

take 'em out.

Anything else?

Yeah.

Don't smile. Ever.

Dino, telephone.

What are you lookin' at?

- Yo, you got a code for the phone, man?

MCI.

What's the number?

- Hey, Ginny, how you doing, baby?

- 2-4-6... - Yeah, baby,

I miss you, too.

Get out the line.

Are the kids around?

- I could've sworn I seen the motherfucker in my cell,

going through my personal effects.

He fingers fingering my cigarettes,

came out like nothing was happening,

whistling he tune!

So I mushed his ass like, move, motherfucker, make room!

Hey!

Ain't that my cigarette hanging off the tip of your lip?

I ain't even give him a chance for he confession,

just leveled his ass with all that aggression!

Lefts, rights, to the do-lex, ha-ha, ha!

Foots to the chest, uppercuts to the grill!

I'm like, kill, he's like, chill!

Take that for--for me even being in this place!

Take that for that fucking C.O. baton across my face!

Feel that for that lawyer

who ain't give two fucks about me,

and feel this, feel this!

For me being enslaved by poverty.

Motherfucker.

Give me them damn cigarettes.

Oh, these is Marlboros. I don't--I don't smoke these.

- Hey, I got some veal coming you are gonna love.

Bené, bené.

- Excuse me, may I sit here?

No.

Excuse me?

Is anybody sitting here?

You.

You're right, you know?

Beg your pardon?

You're right.

About what?

Genevieve.

She's thinking about divorcing you.

In fact, she's having lunch with your old law partner

to talk it through.

- How do you know my wife's name?

God told me.

Attention.

According to new state health guidelines,